


i’ve always wanted a (boy)friend

by thekardemomme



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Christmas Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Gift Giving, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28496322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekardemomme/pseuds/thekardemomme
Summary: before sander, robbe never liked christmas. christmas is sander’s favorite holiday.
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 15
Kudos: 103





	i’ve always wanted a (boy)friend

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER:  
> 1\. robbe uses the word “homos”. it’s not at all in a derogatory fashion, he’s teasing and it’s lighthearted, but just be aware that word is used.  
> 2\. the mature rating is for some mature jokes/conversations that robbe and sander partake in, but that’s it. there is no sexual content beyond their jokes and dialogue  
> 3\. i don’t agree with all of robbe’s thoughts towards the end, i’m just reflecting thoughts that i feel robbe would have. that does not mean i share that opinion

Before Sander, Robbe never liked Christmas. It was cold, and lonely, and there was always a fight—between him and his mom, him and his dad, his mom and his dad… Point being, there was never much to like about it. Beyond presents and his mom’s baking (if she baked that year), he never saw the appeal. 

Christmas is Sander’s favorite holiday. He’ll never admit it out loud, always tells people that his favorite holiday is Halloween because he likes to think he’s edgy and cool and mysterious, but Robbe knows all the things that nobody else knows about Sander. One of those things is that Sander is an absolute  _ sucker  _ for Christmas. 

He loves decorating. He and Robbe spent literal hours decorating Sander’s house, just to go over to Robbe’s and do the same while Robbe’s mom laughed and beamed from the sidelines. He loves Christmas movies, especially the romcom ones, but  _ especially  _ Elf, though that’s another thing he’ll never admit out loud. (One night, when Robbe was taking a shower, Sander came in and started serenading him with  _ Baby, It’s Cold Outside,  _ and the vehemently denied being inspired by Elf when Robbe called him out). He loves gift shopping, he loves baking, he loves making gingerbread houses. Robbe had even caught him listening to Christmas music once. 

They have different memories when it comes to Christmas. Sander’s always had family gatherings and happy holidays, and while Robbe loves that Sander had a happy childhood, a small selfish part of him is jealous. Because he never got to have that, and he’s seen twice now how Sander’s family celebrates Christmas. And even though they’ve done things with Robbe’s mom, it’s not the same. 

But Robbe’s learning to like it, now. He’s just started associating Christmas with Sander. Even though they celebrate their anniversary in November, their relationship really started developing in December. Their first Christmas together was the best and happiest Christmas of Robbe’s life. 

This Christmas, he’d been invited to all of Sander’s family events. He went to the dinners, the present openings, all the brunches, and all the hangouts. He dutifully sat next to Sander and held his hand, and even when Robbe knew everybody in the room, Sander never left his side, always sure to include him in the conversations. It was nice. 

But it’s Christmas Eve now. They’ve just come upstairs, away from all the hullabaloo going on downstairs with Sander’s dad’s side of the family, and the noise is still echoing through Sander’s closed door. Sander is on his back with Robbe sprawled across their chest, and they’re just laying there in silence because Sander had gotten too overwhelmed with all of the noise and chaos downstairs. 

It’s easy to forget how sad Robbe is at Christmastime when he’s down there in the thick of things with the Driesens. But now that there’s nothing to keep his mind occupied, it’s all he can think about. 

“Can’t you spend the night?” Sander asks eventually, when Robbe’s damn near got himself properly worked up about everything. 

Robbe shakes his head, “I have to spend the morning with my Mama, you know that.” 

“We still need to do presents for each other.”

Robbe moves, adjusts so his chin is resting on Sander’s sternum. Sander smiles at him, reaches up to run his fingers through Robbe’s hair. “Don’t you want to wait for Christmas? I’ll be over in the afternoon,” he murmurs, but Sander just shakes his head. 

“I can’t possibly wait another second,” he declares, always with a flair for the dramatics. “I might run the risk of you having too much fun with your Mama and then never coming over to visit me.”

Robbe rolls his eyes, “That won’t happen.”

“I dunno, Robin. She makes some pretty good  _ poffertjes.” _ He smiles at the way Robbe smiles, and scratches his fingernails more firmly against Robbe’s scalp. “Are you going to see your dad tomorrow, too?”

That’s another thing about Christmas. Ever since his dad moved away, Robbe never knows if he’s going to see him. Never knows if he  _ wants  _ to even see his dad, to be honest. But sometimes he’ll show up on Christmas Day at breakfast time, other times he’ll show up around dinner, sometimes he’ll leave a voicemail explaining that he couldn’t come at all. 

Robbe knows that he has a girlfriend now, and that his girlfriend has children. He figures they’ll probably be doing family meals and things together on Christmas morning, and any presents that the Sint didn’t bring on package night. He wonders if his father will have any time at all for him this year, or if he’ll be too busy with his new family. 

He hasn’t met them yet, and he doesn’t want to. His mom tells him that he’s a good stepfather to his girlfriend’s children, and while Robbe knows he should be relieved that he isn’t fucking up other children the way he fucked Robbe up, all he feels is anger. Because it sucks to see your own father treating somebody else’s children better than he ever treated you. 

But Robbe can’t unload all of that on Sander, not on Christmas. It would only worry him, and besides, Sander doesn’t understand. His parents are married.  _ Happily  _ married. It’s all he’s ever known, is gagging at his parents when they kiss or dance, and giving them sentimental gifts for birthdays and Mother’s Days and Christmases. He’s only ever known the classic nuclear family, with love and happiness and the only fighting being when Sander comes home past curfew or when Sander and his father goofed off together instead of doing the chore list his mom left for them. 

Sander has told Robbe before that he wants his marriage to be like his parents’ marriage. And it always makes Robbe think of how  _ his  _ parents made him think that happy marriages were nothing but a lie. 

“I don’t know,” Robbe shrugs. “Probably not. He gets busy on Christmas, but he’ll probably call or something.”

Sander snorts, “A phone call.” He trails his fingers down from Robbe’s hair, tickling them against the apple of his cheek. “Well. You’ll have a better Christmas at my house, anyway.”

“That, I  _ do  _ know,” Robbe teases. He scoots forward on top of Sander until their noses are touching, and he smiles. “And I’ll stay the night tomorrow night. I’ve missed your cuddles.”

Sander groans dramatically, wrapping his arms tight around Robbe’s middle and pulling him down into a bone-crushing embrace. “Me too! It’s been  _ four days  _ since I’ve cuddled you to sleep, Robbe. It’s homophobic.”

“Homophobic?”

“Yeah,” Sander nods, and Robbe knows without looking—because his face is too smushed into Sander’s chest, held down by his death grip—that Sander’s got a serious look on his face, eyebrows set and jaw tight. “I should be allowed to hold you all day, everyday. And keeping us apart is homophobic, you know, because—”

“We’re homos?” Robbe teases, finally peeking up at Sander. 

It’s weird to say that out loud now. Robbe spent so long denying it and now, all because of a boy, the most  _ beautiful  _ boy in the world, he never wants to shut up about it. He holds Sander’s hand on sidewalks and kisses him on public transport and puts his hand in the back pocket of Sander’s jeans when a girl is getting too flirty at a party. He leaves hickeys when they have sex, and blushes when they’re seen but also beams with pride, because people know Sander is  _ his.  _

Sander is the one thing he’s most proud of. He doesn’t think he’s done much in his life, isn’t worth very much, isn’t very remarkable or memorable or anything. But he got Sander, some-fucking-how, and he’ll never shy away from the chance to show that off. Not anymore. 

Sander sighs flippantly, “Well, you are, at least.”

He breaks out into the cutest giggles when Robbe punches his shoulder, and Robbe thinks that  _ this  _ is why he fucking loves Sander so much. Because he’s beautiful even when he’s giggly from teasing Robbe, and because Robbe is so fucking fond even when Sander’s being a little menace. 

Robbe kisses Sander’s laughs away, revels in how Sander melts into it, how he holds Robbe down to him like he’s scared Robbe will move away. But Robbe wouldn’t dream of it, instead redistributes his weight so he’s not so heavy on top of Sander, and then slots their lips together more firmly. 

Robbe’s lips are buzzing when they finally do pull away, nudging their noses together. “I love you,” he whispers to Sander, just to watch him smile, just to watch his eyes crinkle in that crooked little way that they do. 

“I love you, too,” Sander murmurs. “I wish we could stay up here forever. Just like this.”

“Why can’t we?”

“Because you insist on leaving me and going home,” Sander sighs, long suffering. And then he adds, “My mama probably wants to see you open your gift from me, too. She helped me pick it out. We’ve been thinking about it since Halloween.”

_ That  _ has Robbe reeling. He jerks back from the embrace, sitting up almost ram-rod straight. Sander looks confused, slowly sitting up too like he’s worried he’ll scare Robbe off, eyebrows furrowed and eyes inquisitive. 

Robbe isn’t used to receiving, is the thing. He gives, and he doesn’t mind giving. He gives to his mom, his friends, Sander. It’s all he knows how to do to show his love, is  _ give,  _ and he loves doing it. He loves taking care of the people he loves most. 

But he doesn’t know how to handle it when the roles are reversed. He doesn’t know how to receive, has never really had to do it before Sander. 

It’s odd, because Sander wants to give Robbe the world, and Robbe doesn’t know how it’ll fit in his hands. Doesn’t know how to take it. Thinks that there are other people who deserve it more. 

“Baby?” Sander asks suddenly, and there are hands slowly sliding up the sides of Robbe’s thighs, and Robbe realizes he’s been silent for way too long, still straddling Sander’s lap. “Talk to me. What just happened? What’s wrong?”

Robbe shakes his head, because although he doesn’t know how he’s feeling or what to say, he also doesn’t want Sander to think he’s done anything  _ wrong.  _ “Nothing’s wrong, I just—” He swallows so hard his throat clicks, and then reaches up to touch Sander’s shoulders. To ground himself. “I just… I didn’t expect presents from… Anyone other than you.”

If Sander knows what he means, he doesn’t say anything, and Robbe is grateful. “I mean, it’s from me, she just helped me pick it out. And she thinks it’s cute so she wants to see you open it, I think.” His hands slide up Robbe’s thighs to his hips, pulling him in closer again. “But if you don’t want to open it in front of her, you don’t have to. It can be just you and me.”

There was a time when Robbe was too embarrassed to do  _ anything  _ in front of Sander, and now Sander is the one person in the entire world that Robbe is fully comfortable with. It’s weird, to think about how this time last year they were only just landing on their feet. 

“We can do it with her,” Robbe murmurs. “As long as it’s not a sex toy or something.”

He’s mostly teasing, but knowing Sander, that is a genuine risk. 

Sander pulls a face, giving Robbe a sheepish look. “Oh, well, in that case… Maybe we should just stay up here and—”

“Sander!” Robbe admonishes through giggles, making Sander break out in a smile too and admit that he’s teasing. 

“I’d never ask my mom for help with a sex toy, Robbe. I don’t need sex tips from heterosexuals.”

Robbe snorts, gently pushing Sander’s jaw just to pull him right back in for a kiss or fifteen. Sander returns every single one of them until they’re smiling too hard to keep on. 

The noise from downstairs is gone, so they figure it’s now or never for opening presents with Sander’s parents. As they make their way down the stairs, Robbe’s gift for Sander in hand, he starts to feel a little bit self conscious. Like maybe he’s gotten Sander something weird, and he’ll have to face the disappointment from Sander  _ and  _ the judgment from Sander’s parents. He finds himself wishing he’d saved the David Bowie shirt from package night to give to him now, and that he’d let the Sint deliver this gift.

But it wouldn’t mean as much coming from the Sint, and Robbe knows that. He  _ knows  _ that. 

When they get downstairs, they find the living room empty apart from Sander’s dad, who is picking up wrapping paper and dishes from the extended family. He smiles when he sees the both of them, and tells them that the house is theirs for the night, because Sander’s mom had gone off with his aunt, and he was about to go sleep. 

Sander turned to Robbe and shrugged, and Robbe shrugged back, trying not to show the relief coming off of him at the knowledge that this gift exchange would stay private. 

He  _ loves  _ Sander’s mom, of course he does. She accepted him, wanted to meet him even though she knew what happened with Britt and what happened with Sander’s episode. She welcomed him with open arms, always sends him home with food, always opens her home to him when he needs somewhere to go. 

And, of course, she always closes Sander’s door despite Sander’s dad’s keep-it-cracked rule. 

Robbe sits down on the couch while Sander roots under the Christmas tree for Robbe’s gift. There aren’t many presents left under there, so Sander returns quickly with a box wrapped in white paper with mysterious looking black drawings on them. 

Upon further inspection, as Sander gets closer, Robbe realizes the drawings are  _ penises.  _

“Sander!” Robbe exclaims, snatching the box from him and hiding it behind his back, even though Sander’s dad has already disappeared into his bedroom. “Where did you even get that paper?”

Sander shrugs, eyes wide and innocent, “I bought it online. Don’t you like it? I saw it and instantly thought of you.” He reaches behind Robbe’s back and grabs the box, putting it in his lap. “Although, these are a  _ little  _ bit smaller than what you’re used to handling.”

Robbe glares at him. “Ha ha.” He looks at his own box, much smaller than the one Sander has, and wrapped in metallic gold paper that his mom picked out. He wonders, distantly, if this will be enough. 

“Do you want me to open mine first?” Sander offers quietly, as if he can tell that Robbe is eating himself alive with anxiety. “Or we  _ can _ wait until tomorrow night, if you really want to.”

“No, no. Now is good.” He touches the side of his box once more and then hands it over with all the grace of a toddler. Sander chuckles quietly as he accepts it, and then he holds it up to his ear and shakes it, like he’s trying to guess what it is. The box is silent, though, so Sander rushes to open it. 

The paper reveals the small velvet jewelry box, and Robbe bites down hard on his lip. His stomach does flips as Sander flips it open and looks at the jewelry inside. 

It’s a silver signet ring, stamped with an angel right in the middle. 

Sander doesn’t say anything, just stares at it, mouth half-open in surprise. Robbe wonders why he’s surprised at a  _ ring.  _

“It’s an angel,” Robbe explains. “Just like mine. So we can match, if… if you like it. Do you like it?”

Sander drops the box into his lap and launches himself at Robbe, covering every inch of Robbe’s face in a million big, wet kisses. Robbe giggles and tries half-heartedly to shove Sander’s face away, only to give in the second that Sander angles his face for the kisses to hit his mouth instead.

Robbe accepts all of the kisses Sander gives him, beyond excited that Sander seems to love the ring as much as Robbe hoped that he would. The ring wasn’t all that expensive, not for a custom made ring anyway, but it  _ was _ hard to find. And it was hard to sneakily get Sander’s ring size without outright asking for it. 

(He’d ended up stealing Sander’s ring one day while Sander was sleeping. He took it to a jeweler to get it sized, all the while Sander was texting him about being upset he’d lost his ring. Robbe had safely returned it to Sander’s room, strategically placed in his bathroom to seem like Sander really had misplaced it, and then swore up and down that he had no idea why Sander’s ring was left in the shower.)

When Sander finally pulls back, Robbe thinks that he actually sees tears in Sander’s eyes. “I love it, thank you,” he murmurs, pressing one more kiss to Robbe’s lips before pulling back entirely. 

Robbe watches as Sander lifts the ring out of the box and slides it onto his ring finger, right where a wedding ring would go. And isn’t that a thought?

“I hope I don’t lose this one,” Sander sighs, touching the ring that Robbe had hidden. “I still don’t know how this one ended up in the  _ shower.” _

Robbe snorts. “No idea. Now here, give me mine.” He makes grabby hands at the penis paper box, smiling brightly when Sander hands it to him. “If this is a dildo—”

“It’s not,” Sander whines, leaning into Robbe’s side and resting his head on Robbe’s shoulder. Robbe can’t help but duck and lean his cheek against Sander’s head, just for a second. “I wouldn’t buy you a dildo. I’m too jealous for that. I’m the only thing that should ever be inside you.”

He says it softly, but Robbe still finds himself blushing bright red and looking around to make sure nobody’s listening in. He shoves his shoulder into Sander’s chest, and laughs at the  _ oof _ Sander lets out at the unexpected contact. 

“Serves you right,” Robbe mumbles. “And besides, you’re not the only thing I’ve had…” He trails off, too embarrassed to say it, but he knows that Sander knows what he means. 

“Oh? Who do I have to kill or what do I have to burn?”

Robbe looks over at him, mirth in his eyes and a Sander Driesen style smirk on his face. “Me, I guess.”

Robbe watches as his words compute in Sander’s head, watches the cogs turn in Sander’s mind, and then bursts out into laughter when Sander collapses back on the couch with a loud groan, clutching at his heart with both hands. Honestly, it’s a wonder that his boy ever went for visual arts instead of theatre. 

“You can’t just say things like that!” Sander complains, eyes pressed closed and expression clouded in complaint. “Now I’ve got images in my mind, Robin. Indecent images. I think I’m having heart palpitations. Does your left arm hurt when you’re having a heart attack? Robbe—”

“Shut up, you idiot. You’re so dramatic.” He grabs the front of Sander’s shirt and tugs him up until he’s sitting again. “Can I open my present now?”

Sander sighs, “I suppose so. But once we go back upstairs, you’re gonna show me exactly what you’re talking about.”

“In your dreams.”

Robbe ends the conversation there, ignoring Sander’s protests, and instead focuses on taking the paper off of his gift. He works slowly at first, the idea of preserving paper in his mind, but then he remembers that Sander used wrapping paper with literal  _ dicks  _ on it, so he decides to rip it off so Sander will have to throw it away. 

When all the paper’s gone, he finds himself looking down at a bright red box. It says  _ Corduroy  _ across the bottom, and in the clear window, Robbe can see a stuffed Corduroy bear and the book behind it. He stares at it for a long moment, and then glances up at Sander. 

He’s surprised to see that Sander looks  _ nervous.  _

“One of the first things you ever told me about yourself was that you didn’t have any family traditions. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but then obviously I got to know you more, and I realized what you  _ really  _ meant. And, um.” Sander shrugs again, growing more and more sheepish by the second. “I know I can’t fix your childhood memories, but I want to give you good ones now. Especially for Christmas, it bothers me so much that you don’t like Christmas. Because every child should like Christmas, and I hate your dad sometimes for—” Sander cuts himself off, giving Robbe a quick smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Robbe says instantly, because it is. He hates his dad sometimes, too. 

“Anyway. I know I can’t fix your childhood memories. And I don’t know what your favorite book from childhood was, I asked you once and you said that you didn’t even know, which makes me so fucking sad. And I love you so much. But mine was Corduroy, and my mom found this, and it’s… It’s the exact same Corduroy bear I had when I was little.”

Robbe looks back down, pops open the box and pulls out the book and then the bear. He holds the bear between his palms, runs his fingers over the strap of his overalls that’s missing a button, and then squeezes it so tight he’s worried it might bust and send stuffing all over the room. 

He loves Sander  _ so much.  _

“I don’t know what to say,” he admits, his voice thick and watery, and he’s suddenly so glad that Sander’s mom isn’t watching him right now. 

Sander asks softly, “In a good way or a bad way?”

Robbe lets out a wet laugh. “A good way, Sander. Fuck.” He drops the bear aside and then puts himself right in Sander’s lap, curling up in his arms and burying his face in Sander’s neck. If some tears dampen the collar of Sander’s hoodie, nobody has to know but them. 

“I thought about getting Goodnight Moon or The Velveteen Rabbit, but then my mom and I were looking at baby pictures and we saw the Corduroy and we knew it was perfect.” A small pause. “I hope I’m not making you sad. It wasn’t supposed to be a sad gift.”

“I’m not sad,” Robbe insists. “This is the most thoughtful and sweet gift I’ve ever gotten. I love you so much.”

“I love you,” Sander returns easily. “And I love spending Christmas with you.”

Robbe nods, face still pressed into his neck, “So do I. I don’t need family traditions and memories, now that I can make them with you.” He knows that’s not really what Sander wants to hear, knows that Sander will say  _ you didn’t need to learn to be strong, you needed a childhood,  _ but Robbe doesn’t care because he’s being honest. 

Yeah, his childhood  _ sucked.  _ His dad sucked. But everything that ever happened to him led up to the moment he met Sander, and he thinks it’s worth it. He wouldn’t change anything about how he grew up if it meant never meeting Sander, or never getting to love and be loved by Sander. His past sucked, but his present is more than he could’ve ever hoped for. And with Sander, he knows the future will only get better. 

Maybe it’s obsessive and codependent and Robbe shouldn’t think it, but Sander is the only person he needs. The one person he loves more than anything else in the world, the only person he can’t imagine living without. His best friend, the love of his life. His  _ everything.  _

“Tell your mama I said thank you,” Robbe whispers, and Sander laughs and promises that he will. Robbe finally pulls back, blushing and ducking his face when Sander instantly reaches up to brush the tears off of his sticky cheeks. “And thank you. It will be a good substitute for when you’re not there to cuddle with.”

Sander frowns, turning to glare at the bear who is still resting on the cushions where Robbe haphazardly abandoned it. “Don’t get too handsy,” he warns. “He’s mine, and I don’t share.”

“Shut up,” Robbe giggles, and then kisses him quiet for good measure. 

Once they’re kiss-sore and pliant and it’s really getting late, late enough that Robbe should probably get going, Robbe curls his hand around the collar of Sander’s hoodie and pulls him in closer. 

“You are my best Christmas present,” he murmurs sincerely, and it’s so cheesy that normally Sander would tease him, but he doesn’t this time. “Thank you for loving me so well.”

“Don’t thank me for loving you. I should be thanking you for being so lovable.”

Robbe rolls his eyes, and pulls again on his hoodie. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, you know?”

“I do,” Sander whispers. “Because you’re my best Christmas gift, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> title is a play on a quote from corduroy
> 
> find me on tumblr @wlwharrys or on twitter @starsamidala


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